Cupid's Arrow
by Sergeant Toast
Summary: Zevran gets to celebrate Valentine's Day with the Warden... but what on earth do arrows have to do with anything? Zevran/F!Mahariel


After setting up camp, everyone had retreated into their tents for the night. Well, almost everyone. The Warden could still hear the occasional sharp intake of breath, and she'd become such a light sleeper that it was starting to irritate her. She argued internally with herself for what seemed like hours, but still the sudden "ahh!"s did not cease. Eventually, she gave in to her curiousity and wandered out of her tent, eyes half-shut, hair a mess, and with a dark cloak wrapped around her petite-looking frame.

The fire was dying down, and it was so dark she could hardly see her own feet, let alone what was making the noises, though she already had an inkling of what it was. The Warden knelt down and picked up some of the waiting firewood, tossing it onto the pile and taking a step back when the flames crackled, briefly shooting up into the air above them. She glanced around once more, squinting into the distance when she thought she saw the very faint outline of a figure directly across from the fire, but quite a ways away, and just on the edge of the forest. The figure was closer to Morrigan's tent than it was to the rest of them. The Warden started towards the figure, jabbing a hand into her boot momentarily to make sure she still had her dagger, just in case. She did, and she continued on.

She stopped a short ways away, but the sharp noises had also stopped by now. The Warden ceased breath to listen more closely, to become one with the forest, and she shut her eyes, sensing instead of seeing. Apparently since she was still half-asleep, her sensing was groggy, because she didn't realize that whoever was there was anywhere near her until they had their strong arms wrapped around her. Trying to turn around to view her captor was futile, and with a grip this tight, there was no way she could reach into her boot to get her dagger. She cursed under her breath for not thinking ahead.

"Such vulgar language, Warden. If I didn't know better, I might think you were a sailor," a playful Spanish accent said teasingly as the arms around her waist released her. The Warden had to smile, if only slightly. She whirled around a took a step back as the man lit a dying torch on the ground nearby. Her smile grew, even though she'd already known who the man was as soon as he'd spoken. Zevran was standing before her, the usual amused smirk across his features and his strong, tan arms crossed as he looked at her expectantly. "Shouldn't you be asleep, my dear Warden?"

The Warden shook her head, then thought again. "Well, I should, but I heard you out here. What were you doing; stabbing yourself with a twig?" she asked, arching a surprisingly well-manicured eyebrow at him. Well, surprisingly well-manicured for how little they stopped these days. "Besides, I could ask you the same question. Aren't you tired at all?"

He shrugged modestly and walked over to a tree stump, sitting down on it and picking something up. Moving closer, the Warden saw that it was an arrow and some other substance. She watched as Zevran tipped the bottled substance so it slid smoothly out, onto a cloth. Zevran hissed under his breath, making the "ahh!" sound again. Then he brought the cloth over to the tip of the arrow and gently rubbed it on. "You might be surprised at my endurance, dear Warden," he added casually.

She didn't look quite as amused as Zevran himself had. "We weren't talking about your endurance."

"No, but we could be." He looked up and flashed her a grin, before dropping the cloth to the ground and gently setting the arrow into a quiver that was leaning against the tree stump, against him. The Warden examined the quiver for a moment, trying to place why it was so familiar. The designs on the side of it looked... Orlesian. Of course, that was it!

"Aren't those Leliana's?" the Warden asked Zevran curiously, glancing up to look at his face, at which point his eyes met her own. They just stayed like that for a moment before the Warden looked away, unable to bear looking at that hungry gaze any longer. If there was one thing she couldn't deny about she and Zevran, it was the fact that they had chemistry. It didn't matter though; all of them knew they could die any moment, and the Warden didn't want to have to go through the extra pain of losing a lover if she let herself give into Zevran's charm. It could be considered selfish, in a way, but she didn't care. If you looked at it just the right way, she thought, she was protecting both of them; not that he needed protection in the first place.

Zevran cleared his throat, jerking the Warden out of her reverie, and he shot her a small, mischievous smile. "Not today, they're not," he said slyly. "Care to know why, my dear Warden?" he added, looking her over hungrily once again. His gaze made her so uncomfortable, especially considering Zev's past with women, but the Warden, as usual, pretended like it didn't affect her. Of course, this perplexed Zevran. Women were susceptible to his charm. That was the end of it. Right? So how could the Warden resist him so easily, as if it were nothing? Much of the time, his mere gaze could make women weak at the knees. Thus far, it had not worked on the Warden. It was quite aggravating, indeed.

The Warden glanced at the Orlesian quiver, then back to Zevran. "Why?"

He leaned in close to her and motioned with a finger for her to move closer, as well. The Warden stayed where she was for a moment, but as Zevran's finger-motioning got more urgent, she gave in and leaned closer. "It's a secret, Warden," he whispered, getting even closer. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and the Warden felt chills go down her spine. The next thing she knew, his voice was right by her ear, his warm breath tickling the side of her neck along with her ear. "I'm playing Cupid," he murmured, and he somehow managed to make it sound seductive even though it was by far, one of the most ridiculous things the Warden had ever heard. Zevran probably agreed, because as he pulled away from her, he was grinning.

The Warden hid a frown, annoyed that he seemed to be teasing her, and instead laughed at the absurdity of him being Cupid. "You're joking, right? You couldn't possibly pass for an adorable, fat baby that shoots people with an arrow to make them fall in love," she exclaimed, and added another riotous fit of giggling at the end to accentuate her words. It wasn't like she had to force herself, as she was picturing Zevran's head on baby Cupid's body, floating around the sky and shooting people to make them fall in love and decide to get married.

Zevran arched his eyebrows up and down in such a way that the Warden had to laugh a bit more. "Well, perhaps not, but I am rather good-looking, no?" he pressed with an alluring grin, causing the tattoo on his left cheek to move up in such a way that it seemed like it may have a life of its own. The Warden felt mesmerized, if only for a few moments. Then she snapped out of it to see that his grin had turned into a cocky smirk. "From the way you were staring, I'll take that as a more than rather good-looking, yes?"

She felt herself blush, and stumbled to fix her mistake. "I... I was looking at your tattoo, actually," she said in what she hoped was a confident voice, but what she knew wasn't, even if it _had _been true.

Grinning like the cat who'd got the cream, he tilted his head to the side. "This one?" he asked, gesturing to the one on his left cheek. The Warden simply nodded. "Would you like to hear the story of how I got it, my dear Warden?" he asked, picking up yet another arrow and repeating his earlier process. Once it was in the quiver, the Warden picked it up and began to examine it. "I would not touch the tip, were I you," he added.

Keeping her fingers away from the tip, she nodded slowly. "I think I'd like to hear it. Your stories do usually end up being quite interesting, Zevran. It makes me wonder if you ever - ah - stretch the truth in them?" she queried with a small smile, running nimble fingers over the feathered end of the arrow and wondering, once again, what on Thedas he was putting on the tips that she was not allowed to touch.

They looked up at the same time, and Zevran had a look of fake horror on his face. "Stretch the truth, my dear Warden? Never! Such a thing is called lying in Antiva, and therefore, _blasphemous. _The Crows themselves may hunt you down for such a violation," he said with mock sincerity, but the Warden still had to wonder if he was being serious about the Crows or not. From what he said, they'd killed for some pretty outrageous reasons. Murder for lying, however, seemed a bit extreme.

She couldn't keep, though, from rolling her eyes slightly, directing her attentions back to the arrow. "Well, continue with your story, then. Now I'm quite eager to hear it," the Warden said, smiling to herself. Even if this story wasn't true, she hadn't been lying; Zevran's tales were always interesting. They also usually ended up in him getting very lucky and squirming his way out of near-impossible situations.

Loudly clearing his throat, Zevran set his eyes on the beautiful elven woman in front of him and began to tell the story of his facial tattoo. "You see, dear Warden, there was once a time when I was much sneakier about how I got my mark," he paused. "A time when I actually _got _my mark, unlike you and your fellow Grey Warden. You two are, evidently, exceptions to the rule. This woman, a rogue - though, from the time I spent with her, she shouldn't have quit her day job - had done something to the Crows. And before you ask what, I have no idea. I knew only that she had no idea that someone was after her, but she would, no doubt, have her suspicions, and that I was to kill her. Happily, I set off for the tavern she was said to be residing in.

"When I got there, I had no trouble finding her. She stuck out quite a bit, you understand. Gorgeous, long, brown hair that fell past her shoulders, a thin and petite frame - much like yourself, Warden - and the most exquisite lips; perfect for long nights in bed." Zevran grinned here. "Ahh, yes, she was certainly beautiful. I, however, could not afford to let myself be distracted by trivial things such as a woman's beauty - no offense meant, my dear Warden - and so I struck up a conversation with her. After so much chatting, I finally noticed a deck of cards; my escape. I suggested to her that we play a game of Wicked Grace. You've heard of it, yes?" The Warden simply nodded, and he continued. "Well, she agreed, and we made a bet. She said if she won, I'd have to get a tattoo" - he pointed to his cheek - "right here. Of course, it was simply preposterous to get tattoos, much as it still is. But, being a Crow, you get certain... luxuries... and people treat you with respect, even if you do outrageous things. But back to the story. I told her if I won, she had to pay me ten sovereigns. Not that I actually planned on winning, mind you. Besides, I would just take the sovereigns off her body once she was dead." Zevran shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Of course, she won, and we went to get my tattoo done. Once it was over, we shared some more small talk before she invited me back to her room at the tavern for the night. Naturally, I accepted. And when we got there... well, some things are better left unsaid, yes?"

The Warden blinked a few times, but decided not to comment on the fact that he had sex with the poor woman, then killed her. That happened with Zevran sometimes, she knew. It definitely wasn't out of the ordinary for him. "Does... What does the tattoo mean?" she asked him quietly, still holding the arrow in her hands and running her fingers over the finely crafted wood.

"Sex god," he answered nonchalantly.

Wide-eyed, the Warden accidentally dropped the arrow.

Zevran let out a loud laugh. "You needn't look so eager, Warden," he said with a sly grin. "It actually means 'courageous'. But perhaps if you ask politely, the meaning will change, yes?" He was glad to see she wasn't quite so unaffected now. Even fearsome Grey Wardens had their weak spots, it seemed.

Blushing brightly, the Warden scrambled to pick the arrow back up, hastily putting it back in the quiver. "I... I wasn't..." she couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence, which wasn't proving at all how she definitely wasn't thinking about how Zevran could maybe show her exactly how true that 'sex god' statement was. Of course she would never think about such a thing. She... she... she was supposed to be killing darkspawn, not fantasizing about having sex with the man who'd tried to kill her and her other friends. Maker, she needed to get a grip.

He didn't seem to have the same hesitation she did about starting anything between them, because he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers and then leaning back. Picking up the arrow from the quiver next to him, he stuck it lightly into her arm, and then pulled it back out. The Warden just stared at him in shock for a moment before standing up, ready to walk away. If he was going to stick her with arrows, she wasn't going to be anywhere near him. Zevran stood up and grabbed her other arm before she could walk off, though. He pulled her gently closer to him. "Look at that," he whispered, "I'm the first one you've seen since being stuck with Cupid's arrow. If I have my facts correct, that means you're in love with me now, you know."

The Warden's heartbeat was speeding up, and the hair on the nape of her neck stood up in anticipation. For once, she was confronted with an enemy she couldn't slay with a sword: her heart. She ransacked her brain for something - _anything _- to say. The pain in her arm was dull in the back of her mind compared to the onslaught of emotions she was feeling right now. "I... Zevran, don't," she tried feebly as he trailed kisses down her neck.

"This armor must be quite warm," he remarked, poking at it. "I think we should... relieve you of it."

It was right about then when she gave up trying to get him to stop - and it wasn't because he wouldn't listen. It was because she'd given up trying to distance herself from him, given up trying to deny the chemistry between them. "Only if we relieve you of yours too," she whispered back, looking back up to him. Those brown eyes were looking at her, the smallest tinge of mischief clearly visible in them.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Zevran assured her, taking her hand and rushing back to the tents with her, leaving Leliana's quiver and arrows behind with the torch slowly burning. The Warden had to wonder if anyone else would actually hear them. Probably. She felt giddy, and when she felt giddy, she was a loud person. When it came to sex, she was sure to be even louder.

Zevran pulled her into his tent and planted a passionate kiss on her lips, then drew the so-called door of the tent.

It was definitely a good night.

The next morning, the Warden groggily opened her eyes, glancing around the tent. Zevran was off in the corner of the tent, again rubbing that substance onto the tip of the arrows, which were by his side once again. "Sleeping Beauty awakens," he commented with a small smile, not even looking up at her. Well, until she tossed the covers off so she could get dressed; then his eyes were on her again.

The Warden smiled faintly, putting her armor back on. "Are you going to tell me what you're putting on those arrows now?" she asked him. Her curiousity had waned for a while, after she got to talking to Zevran, but now it was back, full-force.

"So persistent," Zevran remarked, _tsk_ing at her. He didn't take his eyes off the arrow in his hands, still rubbing the unknown substance onto the tip. "Did you know that if you squeeze out the... liquid... in the stem of some elfroot, it makes you very..." he seemed to be searching for the word, "lustful?"

The Warden narrowed her eyes ever-so-slightly at him. "And... what is it that you're rubbing on the arrows? Going to kill the darkspawn by making them want to sleep with Leliana?" she asked, getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did that mean what she thought it meant? The bit about the elfroot? And how had he even found this out?

"No, it's poison," he answered with a nod, examining her expression. The Warden looked wary, and the assassin had to hold back a smile. It would be just like her to assume that he'd poisoned the arrow he stuck her with. It wasn't like he could blame her, though; earlier, he _had _tried to kill her and the rest of the group with her. So, technically, Zevran couldn't really blame her.

Her eyes went wide and she glanced at her arm, but there was only a tiny scar there. "Shouldn't I be dead then?" she asked, bewildered. Since when had elves been resistant to poison? Even the Dalish weren't that advanced.

Zevran shot her a sly smile, finally looking up from the arrow. The Warden briefly wondered if he was poisoning that one, too. Probably. "The others have poison on them. The one I stuck you with? That had the liquid of the elfroot stem on it."

Comprehension dawned on the Warden's face, and she narrowed her eyes. "ZEVRAN!" she shouted, and it echoed throughout the camp; no one even came to check and see that Zevran hadn't really gotten it this time. He hadn't.


End file.
